


Wake up John

by cheekbonesofbenny



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:39:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1512548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheekbonesofbenny/pseuds/cheekbonesofbenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson has been in a coma for a week. He gets a shock when he finally wakes up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John sat there alone in the lounge of his new flat. After Sherlock had passed away he had taken to spending most of his time sat here alone, doing absolutely nothing.

John avoided sleeping at night because all he could see was his best friend falling to his death from the top of St Bathlemews hospital. He could hear his friends last words repeating themselves in his head. Was there some kind of hidden clue? Was there a possibility that Sherlock was still alive? No, of course not. John had seen him fall, Sherlock Holmes was definitely dead.

"John. John. Please wake up, John," Sherlock said frantically. "John, can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you, you're inside my head!" John muttered to himself. "Sherlock, please shut up. You're dead."

"John," Sherlock's voice said a little louder. "I need you to wake up, John. Can you do that John? Please, John. Wake up for me."

"Wake up? I am awake..." John murmured.

Blinking a few times the white wash walls of a hospital came into view, a steady beeping sound in the background. John turned his head once to the right to find that he was in a hospital bed. Confused, he looked to his left.

"Sherlock?" John asked in disbelief.

"Oh, thank god you're awake!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"You were dead!" John yelled.

"I came back as soon as I learnt you had gone into a coma after taking a drug overdose," Sherlock explained.

"What?" John asked, confused.

"You tried to kill yourself," Sherlock said simply. "Mrs Hudson found you, called an ambulance."

John stared at Sherlock, still extremely confused. Why had he done that?

"How are you not actually dead?" John asked.

"Is that really important?" Sherlock smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, you're right. More importantly, why did you do it?" John huffed.

"To protect you," Sherlock said, voice softening. He looked away, almost as if embarrassed by the sentiment.

"Protect me from what?" John asked, curious now as to what could have been so bad that Sherlock Holmes needed to fling himself off of a fucking building!

"Moriarty," Sherlock said stiffly. "He was going to have someone kill you, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. I couldn't let that happen."

Sherlock sighed at the look on John's face. 

"Look, I am sorry, John. I didn't realise how much this would hurt you. But I had to do it, I didn't have a choice. Please forgive me."

John shook his head. "So you think it's okay to just waltz in here like this and be all 'oh, hello John. Don't kill yourself. By the way, I'm alive!' do you?" He asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Yes," Sherlock said, shrugging his shoulders.

The next few seconds were all a blur. John's forehead smacking against Sherlock's nose and a small crack being heard, clearly broken then.

"What the fuck was that for?!" Sherlock exclaimed, moving his hand to catch the blood now coming from his nose, grabbing a tissue.

"That's for being a complete and utter dick!" John growled.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed. "I was protecting you!" He protested.


	2. Chapter 2

John had been allowed home from hospital a few days later. Still mad at Sherlock he kept himself to himself. 

Sherlock spent a rather unhealthy amount of time in his room, that was until news of his miraculous survival hit the news.

"Oh, bloody hell," Sherlock cursed upon reading the article in the newspaper at the breakfast table. "What an awful picture!" He exclaimed. "Is my nose really that big?"

John couldn't help but laugh, amused by the detectives reaction. "Sherlock, you are funny sometimes."

Sherlock frowned. "I am not funny, John," he huffed.

John shook his head, laughing a bit more. "It's not that bad a picture, Sherlock. I've seen worse. And since when do you worry about what you look like in those pictures the press post of you?"

Sherlock's eyes moved to meet John's over the top of the newspaper. "Since now, obviously," he muttered, sounding a bit irritated.

John rolled his eyes. "Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

Sherlock sighed. "Bored. I'm bored, John. When there are no cases or interesting experiments going on around me I find it painfully hard to keep my mind stimulated," he complained. "Everything is so dull. So boring. So...ordinary."

"Of course it's ordinary. Ordinary people and their ordinary lives. Unlike you, Sherlock, we live in the real world," John told him.

"Monotonous," Sherlock whined. "You're all so tedious," he huffed. "Why are there no good murderers around? No interesting ones. Every one of them is so painfully obvious right now a man even as obtuse as Anderson could bring them to justice."

John snorted. "You're probably right."

"Like I said, dull," Sherlock murmured.


End file.
